


A Want, A Choice

by Jesonomi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Internal Feelings, Self-Reflection, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24071152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesonomi/pseuds/Jesonomi
Summary: In my room from years ago, I am my present self. My younger self sleeps.
Kudos: 1





	A Want, A Choice

His sleeping face looks at peace. Dirtier, but missing the creases from fake smiles. And missing other signs of weariness. My younger self doesn't inspire the anger I thought it might, but sadness, pity, and something else. In the end, even though stirred hate came from memories of the past, I only felt it towards myself. My present self. Unsurprising, but still a bitter find. I never considered my past, present, and future selves to be one. I always felt a disconnect. Every day, I sleep and wake up emotionally reset. Yesterday's me is guaranteed to be different from tomorrow's me. And that's only on a day to day basis. On the scale of years... of course these versions of myself are separate.

We are all puzzles, never to be completed, every day, moment, event adding another piece. His puzzle is part of mine, and mine will be part of my future self. So, of course, we are not the same. I might even venture to say we are different people.

I lie down on the bed next to my younger self. The night is so calm and peaceful. I can hear the crickets chirping. I had forgotten that sound, how soothing it seems now. A faint car engine in the distance. There never was a ceiling fan in this room. So quiet. In the present, working overnight shifts, I can't sleep without white noise. My mind tunes it out with the noises it muffles, but that is not silence. No, it's never silent anymore. The white noise of sleep. The clamour of housemates. The car engine of the commute. The music of daydreams.

I listen to the breathing of my younger self beside me. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. I sit up and look at him again.

I want to [!] him. I stare at his face, thinking and thinking and thinking, contemplating what to do. I lean closer.

Gently, I pat his head, just like how we always wanted.

It's time to go.

**Author's Note:**

> ? - 115 (2020)


End file.
